


The Dancing King

by dramaticinsanity



Category: All Hail King Julien, Penguins of Madagascar
Genre: AU, Humanized, M/M, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 09:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18825871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaticinsanity/pseuds/dramaticinsanity
Summary: Skipper hates his vexing, constantly partying neighbor, until the coin is flipped, and he discovers something surprising.





	The Dancing King

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, what a creative title.
> 
> Unnamed Song References:
> 
> Thunder - Imagine Dragons  
> Disgusting - Miranda Cosgrove  
> Stamp on the Ground - Italobrothers  
> That Man - Caro Emerald  
> I only wanna be with you - Volbeat

**PART 1/3**

Skipper fiddles with his keys as he climbs the stairs. He hopes for a quiet. He's returning from a solo mission foiling Hans. He still does everything in his power to keep his team from being privy to their disturbing past in Denmark.

He groans and rolls his eyes. The sound of music instantly comes down like a hammer on his already sour mood. His neighbor, his thorn in his side. It's a man whose name or face he does not know, but he hates with the burning fires of a red giant.

He gets ready to pound his fist on the door when he realizes the ruckus -

Is coming -

From his apartment!

 

_Kids were laughing in my classes_

_While I was scheming for the masses_

_Who do you think you are?_

_Dreaming 'bout being a big star_

 

The door is slightly ajar. He examines it, but there doesn't seem to be tampering. So either he's an excellent lockpick - Skipper had extra locks installed - or someone allowed him inside. He bursts through the door, nearly tripping over a young man with a shock of auburn hair. He has a friendly, unassuming aura that makes the back of Skipper's neck itch.

"Oh, a thousand apologies sir," he murmurs, even though it's Skipper who nearly bowled him over. Then, he straightens and holds out his palm.

"May I see your invite?" Skipper clenches his fist, and he throws an arm up to protect his face. "Nevermind! You and your fabulous muscles are welcome to join the party!"

Skipper must be a sight to this bubbly wimp. He cuts a threatening figure, despite his relatively short height. His ink black hair is flat with a military cut. He draws closer, so his stern face, square jawline, slightly hooked nose, and piercing blue eyes are brought in sharp relief for the cowering invader. Skipper's eyes flick to the to the crowd, dancing and drinking in his home as though they have every right. He curls his lip.

"What have I done to deserve this? I'll have you know this is  _my_ apartment."

The interloper in front of him recovers from his fear and offers his hand. "I'm Ted, it's nice to meet you. Your apartment is wonderful, and so very clean." Ted's eyes travel the length of his figure. "My aren't you strapping?"

Nearby a man with ginger hair and a devilish grins half-yells across the room, "Who is that you're flirting with Teddy?"

Skipper glowers, noticing the man is stuffing valuables into his cargo pants. He catches Skipper's gaze, but he doesn't even look sheepish. He does a pelvic thrust and stage-whispers, "Hoo-ah!" He simply disappears into the crowd, items falling from his overflowing pockets. A tall blond man scurries behind him, picking up loose items.

Ted ducks his head a little, blushing. "Sorry about Pancho, bit of a kleptomaniac. He's been getting help, really, but it's a work in progress. Andy is such an enabler."

Skipper opens his mouth to lay into the guy when another voice pipes in.

"Hi, Skipper. Welcome back," Private says. "How was the mission? All go smoothly?"

Skipper skips on the pleasantries. "Why did you let these miscreants in?"

"Mr. Julien gave me a hundred dollar bill and a new game for the nintendo switch that hasn't even been officially released yet. They aren't doing any harm or distracting me from my college coursework."

Skipper grinds his teeth. He supposes he can't entirely blame someone as naive as Private for accepting a bribe so easily. He cracks his knuckles. He should blame - possibly punish - the briber instead. He has his name. First, he needs to dissipate this rabble.

He grabs the nearest idiot by the shirt. It's one who greeted him at the door. "Who is the ringleader of this obnoxious circus?"

Ted giggles, but it's a nervous sound. Good. "He uh - that would be King Julien - mister - sir -"

Skipper says through gritted teeth, "Take me to him. Now."

Ted leads him through the crowd. A portly man in a sweater vest stops them. He meets Skipper's stormy gaze with only a slight flinch.

"I wouldn't interrupt King Julien when he's in the groove thing zone. He gets very testy," he explains. "My name's Maurice by the way, his majesty's advisor and best friend. You're Skipper right?"

"I don't actually give a shit. Why are you even here. In  _my_  apartment, with  _my_  name on the lease? I could have every last one of you arrested."

"Technically Private's name is on there too, and he allowed us in. The thing is - I tried to stop him but Julien is stubborn. There's been two noise complaints so far, and he thought partying in a different apartment would avoid the third - which comes with a warning to desist or be evicted."

"Well, that's good to know."

They stare at each other in pregnant silence for a moment. Ted awkwardly excuses himself.

"You're the one who filed the complaints?"

"Obviously. One has to have low standards to live here true, but still, there are standards. Your ringleader has got on my last nerve."

"He's swimming in dough from what I can tell," Skipper continues. "Why live in this relative dump?"

His apartment is well-kept and enough for them. Its location is on the more or less seedy end of Manhattan, but he and his brothers are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Julien doesn't seem like the type who belongs here.

"Please, we can't go anywhere else. Let's just say… there are people looking to put a permanent end to his li - uh, his parties. He can't go back home right now, and he can't live somewhere fancy that would attract attention and be easily found."

"Unfortunately for your idiot, his parties are on the other side of my very thin bedroom wall. I get very cranky when I can't get any sleep! He's lucky I haven't broken into his apartment to smother him in his bed."

"Look, we'll leave your place right now. I'll talk to him, see if he can tone it down. OK? Just. Give us a - a week. A second chance. At the very least to get another option sorted out."

Skipper wants to snarl in his face and deny him. However, he seems earnest and semi-intelligent. Skipper sighs and strokes his mustache with his thumb.

"You have a week to improve your behavior or prepare to get the hell out."

Maurice gives a solemn nod. He heads to his boss or whatever. Skipper watches in an intimidating soldier stance as everyone files out, carefully giving him a wide berth or even cowering. Someone bumps into Ted, nearly sending him sprawling. Another catches him with one arm.

"There, you've got to be careful, Ted."

"I know sir!"

The young man, dressed in ripped jeans with a rainbow belt and a cropped white tank stops in the doorway. His back is on Skipper, and he is unmoving as the others are leaving. He is the last, and spins around to raise a shapely eyebrow at the one rightfully kicking them out of his apartment. His button nose has a slight curve to it. Skipper's breath catches.

A boombox is loosely gripped in his fingers, music still pumping from it.

 

_My heart is slipping, too intense_

_I need an escape_

_I'm seeing stars and there is_

_Nothing more that I hate_

 

Various jewellery adorns him - an array of bracelets, rings, and a pair of earrings. A licorice and chalk wide-striped scarf is loose around his waist, the longer end hanging behind him like a tail. The burnish of his rich skin puts the oak door to shame, with a luster produced by sweat. A fresh smell still wafts from his clothes along with a fruity cologne.

His amber eyes gleam in the low light, captivating Skipper. His immaculate curls - so blond they appear gray - look softer than silk sheets. There are licorice highlights at the roots. Skipper glances over his revealed stomach, not completely flat, but not taking away from the shape of his hips. He tries to not linger.

The stranger smirks and puts his hands on his hips. His nails are trimmed to perfection and shiny. Every inch of him seems well-groomed. Skipper's eyes are drawn to his toned biceps. Skipper has to force himself to look at a point over his shoulder to stop staring at this unexpected ethereal beauty.

"It is a shame we have to go. You have such a nice place," the ring-tailed lemur remarks.

"I - thanks?"

"I hope you are having sweetest dreams. Au revoir, monsieur pingouin autoritaire." His voice is saccharine and light as a feather at the same time, smooth and proper in a way then sends an electrified tingle down his spine. He flutters his long eyelashes, waiting for Skipper to recover.

"Goodnight," Skipper replies in a stilted tone, his mouth dry. The man slips out of the apartment with grace unparalleled by anyone else he's met. He's gone before Skipper can ask his name or contact information.

Who is that stranger that has him so transfixed? He realizes with a jolt that he's seen him before, on his morning runs. When he returns to the apartment building, he sees him on a balcony, stretching with yoga-like poses in the late morning sun. He can't recall enough detail to determine which apartment, his mind so addled, but he's certain it will come back to him later.

Skipper can't help give him a nickname in his head - gleaming rings on his delicate fingers and striped scarf coming to mind -  _Ringtail_.

 

**PART 2/3**

The others return later in the evening. He tells them of the party. He doesn't mention the enigma he met at the end, preferring to keep that lovely secret to himself.

Kowalski appears surprised. "Why would someone who seems like a trust fund baby be living at a place like this?"

"Apparently, for security. Considering the shady deals that go down here, I'm not sure it's any wiser, but that's not any of my business." The last thing Skipper wants to do is get involved in some kind of conspiracy someone is hatching to take out this spoiled royalty. If he really is a king, Skipper cannot say. All roads in that direction lead to complication.

Normally, he lives for danger and daring do. However, his insolent neighbor has done nothing to achieve his good graces. Whatever trouble he's in is probably self-inflicted and well-deserved. His gut is uneasy, telling him to stay far away from this self-absorbed party animal that he has yet to even meet.

"Did the rest of his party guests seem high-end too?"

"Not really. It was quite the assortment, he obviously doesn't care what sort he keeps company with, or he's unaware of whose friend of a friend is getting in." The cheeky thief Pancho and his timid boyfriend Ted come to mind.

"That Julien bloke and his party guests seemed nice enough," Private remarks. "Someone named Timo - don't know if you saw him, the one with the big glasses and the white stripes in his shoulder length black hair - offered to help me with my homework. No one else bothered me, except to say hi or tell me I'm the most darling, cutest thing ever."

Skipper stares at him. "I don't want you associating with those hooligans, especially that halfwit they call King Julien. Understood?"

Private mutters, "Yes, sir."

His eyes portray that he disagrees with Skipper's command. However, he doesn't verbally express it. Rico meanwhile, continues to eat without comment. He remains silent, but his gaze is off in the distance. Kowalski looks thoughtful too. Skipper can't put his finger on why, but he doesn't like it. He has a bad feeling they've been swayed by this temptation of their neighbor's devil-may-care lifestyle.

After the evening winds down, Skipper finds himself staring at the ceiling. He is unable to get the gorgeous stranger off his mind. He pictures the intense, sparkling eyes of the mystery partygoer and his self-assured demeanor while Skipper was kicking them out.

Skipper wants to find out who that man was. Investigating though, would likely require further contact with his unbearable neighbor and his delinquent followers. It's quite a being 'stuck between rock and a hard place' situation. He's gone so long without romantic entanglement now - merely messing around here and there with no strings. His life makes it difficult to have real connections outside of his team and the repertoire he has to build with certain contacts.

Time passes in a sluggish daze as he pines, unbeknownst to his commando brothers. It isn't like he'll die from this ceaseless yearning; Regardless, the frustration threatens to become a distraction.

One morning, he's left to his own devices, filling out paperwork at the living room table. Kowalski is in the apartment the floor below, directly below theirs, which he rented out as his personal laboratory. Private is at his little minimum wage job on the side. Rico is in the bedroom playing video games, but he might as well be on another planet.

Skipper unlocks his phone. A picture greets him, of a young Private throwing a peace sign up. A dog that looks like it could eat him for breakfast is blissfully licking his face - Skipper's old military dog partner, a pitbull named Manfredi. He couldn't bear to get another dog after Manfredi, as well as his German Shepherd Johnson, passed away, one after the other. He had been recommended a service dog upon returning from war, but he couldn't do it.

The wallpaper never fails to make him smile, though. The first text he sees turns it into a frown.

**[Lola]**

**> FROM 03:05**

**Ur cute**

**> FROM 05:29**

**I hate being laone u kno it just sukcs can we be alone tegeter**

**> FROM 06:00**

**Breakfast? For old time's sake?**

**> FROM 07:10**

**U and me drinks? 8 tonite?**

He deletes them all and moves on. It's a good thing he quit keeping alcohol in the house. He might've been tempted. When will his ex girlfriend stop fucking texting him? She always manages to lift his new numbers from someone, so he gave up on switching.

**[Mortal Enemy No. 2]**

**> FROM 07:45**

**I shall wipe the floor with you at the fencing tournament Skipsy! Bring a mop! ROFL! 🐟 ⚔**

He rolls his eyes and deletes that too.

He opens the next to last new one, from Francis, which is a long-winded rant about climate change and public misconceptions about zoos, and some kind of drama going on at his company. He shakes his head. He needs new frenemies, or just more plain  _friends_.

**[Francis]**

**> FROM 8:01**

**Brb, typing that out helped but my stress levels have skyrocketed. Time for a bubble bath. I also have to catch up on my shows so don't disturb me.**

**> FROM 09:30**

**In conclusion, I might sue them. My best lawyer just went on maternity leave though. Who. Does that, in my time of need?**

**< TO 09:58**

**Can you chill.**

**> FROM 09:58**

**Did you even read any of my texts?**

**< TO 09:59**

**You need to get out more.**

**> FROM 10:01**

**These allergies are kicking my ass. I will go outside when I invent a cure!**

**< TO 10:01**

**Medications exist**

**> FROM 10:03**

**They don't agree with my seasonal depression, you know this**

**< TO 10:04**

**Excuses. You went to a music concert last week and didn't complain.**

**> FROM 10:09**

**Fuck off. I'm out of here if the govt gets any worse. I should just infiltrate it and devolve the country into anarchy so I can take over the world.**

**< TO 10:10**

**You either have to collapse society into anarchy or rule it. Can't do both. Make up your mind.**

**> FROM 10:13**

**SMD! Wait, nvm. You already did that and bought the T-shirt. Brb dabbing bc that was a sick roast 👏💯**

**< TO 10:13**

🙄

**> FROM 10:14**

🖕👀

**< TO 10:15**

**Did you get rid of your crabs yet? I'm glad I dodged that bullet.**

For a genius, Blowhole has the mentality of a twelve year old otherwise. He pushes his phone away and returns to his papers. The morning passes. He finishes his work. He orders pizza and flips on the TV.

**Sent: [Kowalski] [Private] [Rico]**

**< TO 11:57**

**Come get pizza before it gets cold.**

His team materializes like an aggressive mist. They pass through in a whirlwind. Rico returns to his gaming marathon, with Kowalski retreating back down to his lab without nary a greeting. Private makes a bit of small talk before he has to head back or risk being late off his lunch break.

As he's nibbling the last slice, his phone alerts him to three new messages.

**[Francis]**

**> FROM 12:25**

**Get laid. Please.**

He doesn't deign to respond to that obvious bait. He opens the next one; thankfully it's from someone who doesn't raise his blood pressure.

**[Marlene]**

**> FROM 12:30**

**Charity soccer game for veterans this Saturday still on?**

**< TO 12:41**

**You know it. Forecast for rain. Could be a wet one.**

**> FROM 12:41**

**Fun times**

**< TO 12:42**

**Will the wonder duo be coming?**

**> FROM 12:42**

**Doris and Mr. Got his doctorate online? Yeah why**

**< TO 12:45**

**I hope she doesn't bring my ex along. Her on again off again relationship with Hair Gel guy must be off again. She texted me several times. And asked to get drinks later. Gtfo. I'm sober.**

**> FROM 12:46**

**Sweet Moses. She needs to lose your number and mine. The other day she asked if it was hard for me to be at your place for Christmas.**

**< TO 12:46**

**? Does she think Jewish people hate Christmas? I'm Jewish too? Wtf**

Skipper doesn't strongly believe in a higher power. Skipper practices out of habit and to feel close to his passed mother. It's still a part of him though. His brothers were raised Christian, but it's never been an issue. Decorating for and celebrating their respective holidays is quality bonding time.

**[Marlene]**

**> FROM 12:49**

**🤔 did she forget**

**> FROM 12:50**

**She needs to open a book sometime**

**> FROM 12:50**

**Her Bible is probably an audio. Not that I'm bashing audio, but**

**< TO 12:51**

**At least that's not as bad as when she thought a dreidel was a bedroom toy or showed me a powerpoint presentation on why the menorah is secretly a satanic symbol.**

**< TO 12:52**

**I told her to eat a Christmas tree after the latter. Said it might make her "brighter". She didn't get the joke.**

**> FROM 12:52**

**💀🎄**

**> FROM 12:53**

**I've never met anyone as ignorant, self righteous and prejudiced as her. Not to mention fake.**

**< TO 12:53**

**Tell me about it. I wish I could delete my memory of dating her.**

**> TO 12:55**

**Why does my 'type' seem to be 'stupid beyond all reason' ?**

**> FROM 12:57**

**Types are bullshit but go off ig. It's not your fault anyway that there's two kinds of cute dumbass and Lola is the wrong one.**

**> FROM 12:58**

**Btw I suggest you bring a date as a buffer.**

**< TO 12:58**

**I might just ask Blowhole to drown me in his ridiculous aquarium instead.**

**> FROM 12:59**

**Lol. Just don't bring someone who isn't white. Or who's any religion but Catholic. Or male! She'd throw a fit… and we're already gonna have enough drama with Blowhole there**

**< TO 12:59**

**Ugh. She thinks she owns me.**

**> FROM 13:00**

**Shit my break is over. Cya!**

**< TO 13:00**

**Later Mar**

His phone pings with another text. It's not Marlene. He would lay his bets that it's Blowhole knocking at his door again, or possibly Lola. It's not any of them. It's not someone saved in his phone. His thumb pauses over the delete button as he reads.

**[Unknown Number]**

**> FROM 13:01**

**You have nice tattoos. I have loving for them! I only got one, a butterfly on my hip**

Skipper rubs his arm. Beneath the material of his sweater, he has a salmon on the shoulder, below that an anchor, and a penguin with an egg nestled on its feet. Dolphins wrap around his forearm, a relic of his ill-fated dalliance with Francis that he never bothered to have removed. His other arm simply has the names and birthdates of Kowalski, Rico, and Private. They're all from before he developed a phobia of needles, or he'd probably have more. For instance, something to honor his dogs.

**< TO 13:04**

**Who are you?**

**> FROM 13:04**

**;)**

**< TO 13:05**

**How did you get this number? Give me answers or we're going to have a problem.**

**> FROM 13:05**

**No need to be so uptight svp**

**< TO 13:06**

**Wait let me guess. Are you that guy from Julien's party? How on Earth did you get my number?**

**> FROM 13:07**

**A magician never reveals his secrets.**

**< TO 13:08**

**You seem sophisticated. Why associate with that party animal idiot?**

**> FROM 13:08**

**Oi that's a bit harsh** **mon chéri. Why so quick to judge? You've not even met him.**

**< TO 13:12**

**I know the type. Upper crusts are the same in my experience, why should I expect anything different?**

**> FROM 13:13**

**Open your eyes. The world is not so small or black and white. Btw any tats where I couldn't see? Or is that bedroom info only.**

**< TO 13:14**

**When did you even see my tats**

**> TO 13:14**

**I may or may not have a spoon with a mustache on the inside of my thigh. Long story - very 'inside joke'.**

**> FROM 13:14**

**LMAO I bet that hurt?!**

**< TO 13:15**

**I've had worse pain since then**

**> FROM 13:20**

**Back to your question you did the asking of - In the summer you ran in just a tank. All sweaty. Guzzled a bottle of water and some of it dripped. That was an experience. I saw you from the window first, then I happened to walk out as you were returning. You didn't see me I am thinking.**

**< TO 13:22**

**I think I would've remembered if I saw you.**

**> FROM 13:22**

**I'm blushing**

**> FROM 13:25**

**So, is your name really Skipper?**

He has to take the question into consideration. He doesn't make a habit of telling people his full name, especially strangers. But if this guy could get his phone number… why not. He could probably find out on his own, if he wanted to badly enough.

**> FROM 13:30**

**Apologizings, did I touch your nervous parts?**

**< TO 13:31**

**No… no parts were… touched. It's: Dennis Skipper Flightless Ravenwood**

**> FROM 13:31**

**That's quite a name**

**> FROM 13:32**

**Not that I'm one to talk. I'm named after my uncle who was named after his father named after his father after his father after his father after his father after his father after his father after his father after his father after his father after his father**

**< TO 13:34**

**Holy shit.**

**< TO 13:35**

**The first surname is from my father's side. My paternal grandmother was something of a role model for me - just a fun fact. They're descended from Native Americans. The furthest one back recorded was a guy named Cry of the Flightless Bird.**

**> FROM 13:37**

**The other?**

**< TO 13:39**

**A small town in eastern Europe, got burned to the ground. Everyone survived because of my many greats grandmother, so they nicknamed her after the town. It just stuck around. Obviously it got adapted into english. I think it was Drewniany Kruk.**

**> FROM 13:43**

**Fascinating. I'm from a long line of cruelty and brutality, but I don't let the past define me. I believe in equity, living instead of just surviving, and embracing the differences of all peoples**

Skipper is becoming more enamored with this man by the minute. He starts to imagine him in the room, the texts as speech. He can see them talking and laughing easy as cats laying in the sunlight. With nothing else to reply at the moment, Skipper takes the chance to add the number to his phone. He's interrupted from his musings by a ping outside of his current text thread.

**[Private]**

**> FROM 13:50**

**JUst your daily reminder that I love you, sir!**

**< TO 13:51**

**Ease up on the sentiment you knucklehead. It's a dangerous weapon.**

**> FROM 13:51**

😘

**< TO 13:51**

😁

Feeling a bit hungry, Skipper gets to his feet to make himself a quick snack. He returns to a new message, and he grabs his phone so fast he almost drops it.

**[Ringtail]**

**> FROM 14:00**

**U still there?**

**> FROM 14:02**

**I don't want to reveal my name yet… it might invite… uh…**

**> FROM 14:07**

**Reservations? I cannot be finding the word I want. English is the third language I was learning the speaking of and I slacked muchly. In fact I grew up with french so I barely had to learn it. I'm better at writing it but sometimes my speech… oof**

**> FROM 14:08**

**Haha aniways you can call me KJ**

Skipper immediately updates the contact with those initials, but he still keeps his own nickname for the man. He has a stupidish grin plastered on his face now, but he doesn't care. He's alone.

**[KJ-Ringtail]**

**< TO 14:11**

**I added you, KJ. It's been really nice talking to you, y'know.**

**> FROM 14:12**

**I did not know you were having joys with our convo, I am happy u told me.**

**> FROM 14:15**

**You have big muscles. Just saying. Where are they from? Looks more practically than bodybuilder**

**< TO 14:16**

**Fencing, soccer, running. Also a workout routine I've had since I was honorably discharged - at the gym once or twice a week.**

**> FROM 14:17**

**Oh that's hot. U can take me bootcamp anytime Monsieur Dennis**

**< TO 14:17**

**That's Skipper to you, soldier**

**> FROM 14:18**

**Sir yes sir**

Is he flirting? He's so out of practice it's difficult to tell. His pulse is racing, and his cheeks are definitely hot. His recent exes weren't the flirting type - more like straight to the point.

Private bursts through the door. "Hey, Skipper!"

Skipper hides his phone on impulse. It's not like he was doing anything scandalous, but he has the instinct to be secretive.

"Hey. How was your day?"

"It was great! Um, sir, are you feeling alright? You look flushed?"

Skipper drags a palm over his face. He swallows. "I'm fine."

Private stares at him for a moment. Then, he shrugs. He gets the laptop and settles at the kitchen table, to start his online college coursework. Meanwhile, KJ hasn't sent another message. He takes this lapse to shoot an emergency message to his friend.

**[Marlene]**

**< TO 14:27**

**Help my neighbor's acquaintance or friend or cousin idk is hitting on me I think. Via text.**

**> FROM 14:30**

**How is someone that's such a jock also such a dork?**

**< TO 14:31**

**Because the world isn't black and white apparently**

**< TO 14:36**

**What do romance savvy people do these days? Send nudes on snapchat? Showing up with flowers and a mixtape is outdated right? Maybe I should just go my stupid neighbor's stupid party and ask him to dance. No that's too forward. Fuck.**

**> FROM 14:40**

**I'm suffering. Skipper. Just get to know him and be yourself. You're not a 50 yr old who had a weed smoking hippie phase**

**< TO 14:41**

**I'm doomed. He looks like a model and sounds like a rich philanthropist. End my life.**

**> FROM 14:42**

**If you think he's flirting then he probably already likes you. Show me?**

**< TO 14:44**

**(Attachments - 3)**

**> FROM 14:49**

**Yeah he's totally into you.**

**> FROM 14:50**

**Don't overthink it k? Or ask him weird personal questions…**

**> FROM 14:51**

**And for the love of… don't send him fucking nudes omfg. If you did that I'd kill you myself.** 🗡

**< TO 14:51**

**I feel better. Thanks Mar**

**> FROM 14:51**

**Np.**

Skipper closes out of his messages. He wonders if he should text KJ again or wait a while. His phone chimes. He grabs his phone and opens the text at the speed of light.

**[Kowalski]**

**> FROM 14:58**

**Eureka!**

Skipper's eye twitches. He could march down there and strangle him.

**[Kowalski]**

**> FROM 15:00**

**I've cracked the code. I know how to get Doris to fall for me this time guaranteed!**

**> FROM 15:02**

**Oops**

**> FROM 15:02**

**Sorry Skipper that was meant for Rico**

**< TO 15:03**

**Stop being the trying too hard to leave the "friend zone" guy. It's embarrassing.**

**> FROM 15:06**

**I'm not in any zones! She simply hasn't recognized our potential, our compatibility yet. I'm going to shine a light on it you'll see.**

**> FROM 15:07**

**What do you know anyway?**

**> FROM 15:07**

**At least I'm trying to find happiness and romance**

**> FROM 15:08**

**At least I'm not throwing my life away getting off with the wrong sort, with people I know are toxic for me**

**< TO 15:12**

**Do you want dishes AND bathroom duty for a month? That's a lot of Rico messes after taco Tuesday and burrito Wednesday**

**> FROM 15:13**

**I take it back I take it back! I'm shutting up now. Apologies sir.**

He groans and rests his face in the palm of his hand. His phone chimes, and it takes him a while to bring himself to look at the message. He flicks through channels on the TV until his stomach settles. A pleasant surprise awaits him.

**[KJ-Ringtail]**

**> FROM 15:14**

**Didn't mean to go silent on you**

**> FROM 15:14**

**I have to settle a minor dispute**

**> FROM 15:15**

**Then take a power nap**

**> FROM 15:15**

**Maybe get a seaweed wrap after**

**> FROM 15:16**

**TTYL handsome!** ♥♥♥

**< TO 15:18**

**Cool**

Skipper drops his head to the table with a thump. Marlene seems to have faith in him, but the insecurities remain. He's always been hopeless in the romance department. Though painful, Kowalski wasn't wrong about him.

The doorbell rings. On the other side is Ted.

"It's my honor to invite you to the exclusive party of our illustrious King Julien the thirteenth!" Ted hands him a card. Skipper examines it, and the chance of meeting Ringtail in person again  _almost_ makes him consider going.

"Should you really be announcing his name like that? Isn't he incognito?"

"He believes you are trustworthy, sir."

That would be flattering and validating from anyone else. However, he wants nothing to do with this fool of a displaced monarch. He rips the paper in half and tosses the pieces at Ted's chest.

"Let him know I am not, nor will I ever be interested in his irritating raves he insists on having through ungodly hours of the night." He shuts the door in Ted's face before he can say another word.

So, this goes on for a month. He's offered invites by several individuals - he remembers their names, in case he decides to report them - Pancho, Maurice, Dorothy, Becca, Abner, Crimson, Karl, Chauncey, Willie, Horst, Mary Ann, Hector, Tammy, XiXi, Fred, Rob, Andy, Sage, Masikura, and Timo. There's even a kid named Todd. After a disconcerting experience with an individual insisting his name was "Doctor S", he is ready to attend a party just to throttle Julien. He doubts that sibilant scoundrel has a real degree. He'd give Blowhole more credit first.

At least it cools his nerves to text with KJ. He's the highlight of any day that Skipper receives a message from him.

On the twenty-fourth of January, he's having a calm morning. He sent the most recent of Julien's lackeys packing with some genuine, harsh threats. He's optimistic that he'll finally give up. He mixes his chopped fish with his eggs, and forks them to put in his mouth, while he scans the news on the team's shared tablet.

The doorbell rings. Skipper jumps to his feet, sending a chair to the floor. His fellow commandos all have their eyes on him in alarm.

"We've been popular lately," Kowalski observes. "Who could that be now?"

"He's sent one of his toadies every day for the past month to try to fucking give me an invite."

"Who?"

"Our ever-loving pain in the a - ascot -  _Julien_." He practically spits the name like an angry hissing cat. He'd be bristling at the mere though if he had fur.

Private asks, "What did you do?"

"Tore it up, threw it at whomever, and slammed the door in their face." Skipper growls and stabs the table with his fork. "Sometimes, I threw threats for them to bring to their ringleader. This so-called  _King Julien_  absolutely cannot take a hint, I could haul off and punch him in the schnoz and he'd still want to be good old pals."

The doorbell rings again. Skipper's eye twitches.

"Maybe you should consider -"

"He better not show his face. I will shove that paper down his esophagus and choke him against the door."

Kowalski snickers, for unknown reason finding that funny. Rico mutters, "Mhm. Kinky."

Skipper ignores them and does not look at them. The doorbell rings for a third time. "Hoover Dam," Skipper mutters so Private doesn't hear.

Louder, he says, "Go away! I'll have you and all your buddies arrested for harassment!"

The doorbell doesn't ring again. Skipper checks through the peephole to be sure. "Finally. Someone with sense."

The rest of the morning passes in silence. He leaves with the boys on a mission. They get separated in the fray. He heads home, their usual rendezvous point when something unexpected happens.

However, he finds nothing as he tears through the apartment. Scenarios begin to shoot through his mind - they've finally gotten sick of him and abandoned him. Hans abducted them, and he's torturing them now. They've been taken by an alien civilization because their DNA is compatible to help them repopulate.

"Kowalski, options," Skipper calls into the empty apartment. His voice echoes back. Not having his men is worse than a missing limb. It's a rare moment when they're not at his side. He was alone once, after Hans' betrayal. He doesn't miss it.

He runs his rough palm over his face. He'll have to start by asking the neighbors if they've at least been through here. He asks the entire floor before he comes to halt in front of the apartment next to his, by the prefers to leave no rock unturned, but this rock is particularly unpalatable. He knocks on the door anyway. Ted opens it.

 

_So come and join our love foundation_

_Go feel the heat, the sweet vibration_

_'Cause we are about to ignite_

_And we wanna go out tonight!_

 

He grins and throws his arms around Skipper without hesitation. Skipper shoves him off, causing him to tumble on the floor.

"I have two words for you Teddy-boy: Personal space."

Revealed behind Ted, another he recognizes as Willie tugs at his thick hair. His bright green eyes fill with trepidation. "We're all gonna die!"

Several people stop dancing, playing, and socializing. Many pairs of eyes alight with concern or terror land on Skipper. Apparently, his reputation precedes him. There's a pause in the music between songs. Horst sips on his drink, loud in the sudden quiet. They all seem to be anticipating drama. A few of them cast glances to the eye of the storm, where their king must be, but his royal highness doesn't make an appearance from the throng of bodies.

Hector remarks bitterly, "Nope. Not doing this."

He traipses to the stereo set and changes the song over. Skipper instantly recognizes the song  _Livin' La Vida Loca._ The crowd gradually returns to their wild celebrations. Ted remains on the floor, staring at him. Skipper sighs and gives him a hand to stand up.

"Sorry! I forgot myself for a moment there," Ted says. "I know not everyone loves hugs as much as I do. I'm just so happy you've finally decided to drop by and have some fun!"

"Uh, decidedly not, bootlicker. I just want to know if anyone here saw something suspicious. My commando brothers are missing, and I've no clue toward their whereabouts."

"What do they look like?"

"You've met Private, who looks like a cutesy, innocent version of me."

"The others are Kowalski - a tall dirty-blonde nerd, usually has a tablet in hand looking at numbers, blueprints, and graphs. Rico is hard to miss, rugged and scarred, a mohawk, and an unstable, murderous glint in his eye."

"Oh, yeah! Julien went over to see if you were home and in a better mood than this morning than when you shouted at Clover - you weren't there, but your friends all accepted invites!"

Skipper's eye twitches, and there's a high probability a nerve in his neck is now bulging with rage. He digs his fingernails in his palm to keep himself from snapping this twig Ted in half. While he was running himself ragged looking for them, they were here - in absolutely no danger other than losing all sense of responsibility and logic.

He scans the crowd, and he spots his three traitors with little trouble. He marches over to Kowalski, who is playing on a multi-tier chess board that looks like it came directly from one of Kowalski's space adventure films.

Skipper is one hundred percent done with King Julien's antics. Stealing his men is a new level of low down and dirty.

 

**PART 3/3**

A figure appears in front of him, blocking his path. He spreads his arms wide. "Tonga soa, my friend, that is saying, welcome. To my party. In celebration of Juliennuary, I am making it the goal to party hard every day, no barring the hold!"

Skipper's stomach hasn't swooped so violently since Private convinced him to ride the Slingshot at Coney Island. He can't believe it. Then, his body becomes completely numb. Music and blood pulse in his ears.

 

_Twisting round on a carousel_

_This speeds' too much to stop_

_One second I'm thinkin' I'm feeling the lust_

_And then I feel a lot_

 

"Your party?"

In his unmistakable sonorous lilt, Julien answers, "Yes, I am being King Julien, silly. Surely you are knowing of my amazing, enchanting, regal self."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I was giving you the time to know me, so that you may not be so judgey."

He can't believe it. Of all the gut-wrenching karma the universe could have thrown at him, it's this. The bane of his existence and the gorgeous mystery he's been crushing on - - they are one and the same. His veins burn with a feeling he can't identify. Is it shame or desire? Shame on his desire?

Skipper pushes Julien aside. At his men, he directs, "You're coming home, now."

Rico leans against the wall and gives him a thumbs down. It's a crystal clear sign of defiance. Skipper circles the table.

"Look me in the eye with your insubordination, soldier!"

Rico grunts, "Nuh-uh."

Kowalski's hand on his chess piece pauses. "But I'm in the middle of extreme-moonwalk-starcrossed chess!"

Timo blinks at Skipper. "Haven't had this intense of a game in a while, heh."

"But Skipper," Private pleads, his eyes wide as he continues dancing in the crowd, "We're having so much fun!"

"That's an order, Private."

"With all due respect, Skipper," Kowalski cuts in, "You're our commander but we still have free will. We're not on duty right now - - remember you've told us when the job is done, we're free to do as we please within reason and law?"

"You call this reasonable? How many laws do you think he's breaking?" Skipper grabs the drink from Private's hand. "You're not old enough to drink."

"Hey. Julien's parties are clean! I told you before! That isn't alcohol."

An arm slings around his shoulders. "Azafady mpiara-belona." Skipper blinks at this incomprehendable utterance. The esoteric statement serves to draw the attention of the surrounding merrymakers. All eyes are suddenly on the pair.

Julien continues without paying them any mind. "Excusing me, if I am to be cutting into this squabble of my neighbors -"

Skipper glares at his arm, wishing that his eyes could fire lasers. He tries to stay strong and ignore the sultry, citrus-scented breath across his ear and neck.

"Stay out of our business, Ringtail," Skipper grumbles. He pointedly does not turn his head or twitch at the sensation of a lithe body slotting against his side. It is nothing but physical lust, and he won't let Julien's natural charisma throw him off his guard.

"Oh - you have given me a top secrety spy name! I like it. Anyway - S'il vous plaît, mon ami - you must be sampling this drink."

Julien loops around him and shoves a glass into his hand. Skipper allows it to happen, numbly transfixed on the man of his fantasies and his torment. Distantly, it registers that Julien seems to be a seamless multilingual - regardless that he mangles the English a bit. He remembers when Julien texted him, he mentioned growing up with French.

Before he can stop himself, he asks, "How many languages are you fluent in?"

"I am being speaking of three: Malagasy, French, English - - and I also know Malagasy Sign Language!"

Skipper isn't a stranger to the languages, he's fluent in Spanish, Polish, and German, with a loose grasp on a smattering of other languages. However, French is lost on him, and naturally he has no clue when it comes to Malagasy. He never had any drive to learn French, and he feels no draw to visit it unlike Kowalski and Private. He could say whatever he wanted in those languages, with Skipper none the wiser.

He could use the advanced speech translator that Kowalski installed on his phone, but that would be cheating. Skipper is a fair player.

It could be fun to test if Ringtail -  _Julien -_  knows one of Skipper's other languages, at some point.

Julien indicates the drink and offers an explanation.

"It's Maurice's special, a perfect, delectable blend that gives you the right kick of sugar and caffeine. Named Red Julien. Your young friend is being correct, my parties are totally safe for minors. I don't even allow the grinding and twerking on dance partners."

Skipper ducks away from Julien's arm. This man is far too tactile for his liking. "And who enforces this? You?"

"That would be me," says an unfamiliar woman appearing from thin air. She has an earpiece and a no nonsense countenance. Her ginger hair is pulled into a strict bun.

"Is there a problem here your majesty?" Her emerald green eyes don't leave Skipper for a second. Unwavering in the face of Julien's bouncer, he doesn't break the gaze. He can respect a serious, soldierly gal like her. In a different life, he might have courted her.

"Not at all Clover. I'm sure once he tastes this delight and hangs around for a bit, he'll come around."

"Who says I'm hanging around?"

Julien's unusually clever expression makes his stomach twist with worry. "Are you not wanting to keep an eye on your men? To be making sure this party really is legal and safe? If you are only taking my word for it I am honored, Skipper."

Skipper huffs. He thrusts the full glass back into the hands of Julien. He drinks it in one swoop, lapping at the residue that stains his lips. Julien is angling to play him for a fool, and against his better judgement Skipper is going to allow him to get away with it.

"Fine."

He stomps away, to go sit on the couch. Somehow, another glass ends up in his hands from Ted, who is carrying around a platter full. He glares into the dark scarlet liquid for a moment. He shrugs and decides to see why it appears so popular.

His eyes widen as the sip hits his tongue. It's utterly fantastic and dazzles his taste buds. He guzzles down the rest. He should give his compliments to Maurice at some point, at least. An orange tabby fluffball of a cat hops onto the arm of the couch. It meows at him, looking at him with its drooping eyes. Skipper allows the cat to sniff his fingers, then scratches its ears

"Hello, there, Sad Eyes. I'm guessing you're stuck with Julien as your provider?"

The cat meows again and licks his hand. Skipper people watches the crowd, eyes occasionally honing in on the activities of his men. They are genuinely enjoying themselves. A red-haired chick - Crimson, he recalls, even flirts with Kowalski, making him turn beet red. Skipper realizes that she and Clover must be twins, or their physical similarities would be twilight zone worthy.

Private has many admirers of his undeniable cuteness. Rico sticks with two particular individuals - Pancho and his shifty friend Andy. Rico is probably in shadysville heaven, as they are probably enamored with Rico's love of destruction and mayhem.

A feeling of guilt creeps up on him. That he would deny his brothers a chance to socialize outside of their little group seems cruel and selfish in retrospect. Unlike them, he isn't so easy to trust. He has never been one to casually let others into his personal life or his heart.

He tears his attention from them. He trusts them, he does. He needs to let them have fun for once. No longer distracted, he of course gravitates back to Julien. He's the life of the party, his subjects cheering him on, dancing into his orbit, and attempting to mimic his jig. Many compete for his attention.

He is in his own world, shaking his sexy ass at the center of it all. Sad Eyes, as he dubs the cat, curls up in his lap, snapping him out of his enthralled state. His jaw shuts, and he's embarrassed that he had been practically ogling Julien. He's never been so obvious. He knows by the smirks passed his way that his fascination has been noted by several people.

He should hate Julien, but he just can't. He wants to know him better, know why all these people, from different walks of life, love him. Their devotion to this potentially self-proclaimed king is clearly beyond simple worship for his parties, or for his carefree disposition, his benevolent attitude.

Sad Eyes releases a sharp meow, startling Skipper out of his musings. He darts across the floor and paws at Julien's feet. Julien yelps and attempts to shake him off without hurting him.

"Mort you naughty kitty-cat! Not the feet - I am always telling you to not be touching the royal feet - Mandehana!"

Maurice intervenes before Julien's distress can get out of control. He plucks the cat from Julien's extremities. He heaves a sigh a relief. As though nothing happened, he goes back to swaying and bouncing to the rhythm.

Suddenly, he hops on a table and starts jerking in new movements as another song comes on. He sings along with it. "I like to move it move it! I like to -"

Everyone collectively shouts, "Move it!"

He bobs through the crowd, continuing to match the lyrics perfectly. "Physically fit, physically, physically, physically fit."

Skipper leans forward. He can't deny he's entranced by Julien's deft gyrations and flawless in-key singing. Partygoers lift him off the floor and carry him, as he points at people who are distracted or motionless.

Upon being singled out, they immediately bust a move. Skipper can't figure out whether or not it's staged.

"You like to move it move it!"

"He like to move it move it!"

"She like to move it move it!"

Soon, there is not a body in the room that's a statue. Everyone dances - perhaps  _boogies_  would be more apt, Skipper thinks - to the buoyant music, with Julien's vivacious energy infecting them.

"We like to -"

"MOVE IT!"

He can't wrap his mind around what's happening to him. Julien is in front of him in a flash, offering his hand. Before he can second guess himself, Skipper allows himself to be pulled.

Skipper joins the fray and swivels his body to the rhythm. He sips from the Red Julien still in his hand, eyes roving curiously over the party, assessing each well dressed individual in a split second. He finishes his glass and grabs another.

Vigor surges through him, his muscles loosening. Handsome men and beautiful women roam toward him as his stern expression slackens. However, he can't tear his eyes away from the party King, propelling the atmosphere into a full-blown vibrant rave. His bleached curls bounce as he dances, falling in front of his face. He catches Skipper's eye and grins. Skipper slips Julien's slim, manicured hand into his and twirls him across the dancefloor. Julien laughs in delight. A new song begins, something of the metal variety. Julien walks his fingers along Skipper's bicep. He moves in, arms slinking around Skipper's shoulders and neck.

 

_Oh can't you see_

_Ever since we met you've had a hold on me_

_It happens to be true_

_I only want to be with you_

 

Skipper can see that Julien's irises have been reduced to a corona around his pupils. His hand is pressed firm to Julien's lower back, their chests meeting - causing their differences in build, one slender and one barrel - to stand out. There's barely an inch left between them. Julien combs back rebellious strands of hair from Skipper's forehead, his smile adding a fond sheen to his gaze. They're close enough the slightest tilt of the head would bring their lips together.

"Baby, I dig you," Julien murmurs.

Skipper kisses him. Julien makes a surprised and pleased sound. He goes nearly limp in Skipper's embrace. His tongue pokes out to tease at Skipper's lips. He parts his mouth to allow him entrance, and their tongues slide in a hot, wet greeting. They make out, fierce and focused, oblivious to their amorous collision being in full view of Julien's guests and Skipper's brothers.

He can't bring himself to mind. He's spellbound by Julien, this utter conundrum, possessing him in a total eclipse of his entity. Although this begins on the basis of shallow attraction, Julien is magnetic. Skipper feels in their proximity the electric particles that portend the potential for something greater.

**End**

**(until further notice)**

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask


End file.
